


Catch Me When I Fall

by Orison



Series: Rescue Me [7]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-05-02 04:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19192087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orison/pseuds/Orison
Summary: Part seven of the "Rescue Me" series. Steve, Danny and a bank robbery.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: A heartfelt thank you to everyone who reviewed my 'psychological rescue' fic. I love those kind of stories and I plan to write more. If you have ideas and would like to read something in particular, let me know and I'll do my best to bribe the muse.
> 
> Speaking about requests, I've received a lot about a very popular theme: bank robbery. And since I like to please my readers and appreciate their support, I decided to go for it. The plot for this one was inspired by one of my favorite episodes of The X-Files, ‘Monday’. Some of you might be familiar with it. I of course left out the supernatural parts of the original story and only used what could be adapted to the Five-0 world. I also used some of the original dialogues as an homage. Hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> I do not own Hawaii Five-0, The X-Files or any of the characters, and no copyright infringement is intended.

***

Screeching to a halt outside Hawaii National Bank, the first thing Lou Grover noticed was the SWAT team getting into position behind the crime scene tape. Two police cars pulled up alongside him, adding to the number of HPD vehicles surrounding the building. Exhaling loudly, he climbed out of his Suburban, ducked under the yellow tape and approached the Lieutenant in charge.

“Captain,” the officer nodded at him curtly, his face grim. “Is Five-0 taking over?”

“What can you tell me?” Lou asked, ignoring the question.

“Silent alarm tripped 30 minutes ago. We think one robber, armed. Probably handgun. Definitely no pro or he would have been long gone. Single gunshot about 20 minutes ago. Blinds are down but it looks like there’s a body on the floor. Where’s the rest of your team?”

Grover glanced at the building, his stomach knotting in dread. “I think two of them might be inside.”

***

Kneeling on the floor, Steve’s head in his lap, Danny couldn’t help thinking back to his New Jersey days, when he had barely escaped a similar situation on his first week on the job. With his partner half conscious and bleeding heavily from a head wound and a trigger-happy, unstable robber staring down at him, he knew whatever chance they had at getting out of there alive depended on him and his superhero powers, as Steve called them, to wear people down.

Talk the guy out until he surrendered. 

He had done it before, as a rookie on that fateful day and countless times after that. He could— _had_ to do it again.

Because it wasn’t only his and Steve’s lives on the line. Twelve other people, eight unlucky customers and four tellers, were currently on the ground around them, scared out of their minds. And if he didn’t want their deaths on his conscience he had to find a way to get through to him before it was too late. 

“...n’d to take’im down, D’ny...” Steve’s hand gripped his shirt, pulling him closer to his level as he moved to curl on his side, his slurred words the unmistakable sign of yet another concussion.

“It’s alright, Steve, I got this,” he whispered, tracing his fingers along his friend’s face in a soothing gesture. 

Take him down. 

As if it was that simple.

He raised his gaze to face the robber, who was breathing heavily and waving his gun unsteadily in their direction. “Look, you’re in charge here, everybody knows it. It doesn't have to end like this...”

The man wasn’t facing the entrance, so he didn’t notice the SWAT team standing outside, ready to barge in. He leveled his weapon at Danny, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Yeah, it does.” 

A moment later, a shot pierced the air.

***

_One hour earlier_

 

“I know, I’m late, I don’t need to hear it,” Steve said as soon as Danny walked into his office. He was sitting at his desk opening an envelope, brows scrunched up in concentration, movements sharp and brisk.

“Hear what?” 

“The lecture about how it’s appropriate to stick to schedule when dealing with a government official.”

Danny watched him take his paycheck out and turn it around to endorse it, unable to hide the smile on his face. His partner was a lot of things but tardy wasn’t one of them. Punctuality had been drilled into him by the Navy, and he took great pride in respecting that. “I wasn’t gonna say that.”

“You weren’t?”

“No.”

Steve nodded, signing his full name on the piece of paper. “So am I?”

“What?”

“Late to the meeting?”

“No, no you didn’t miss the meeting,” Danny replied, putting his hands in his pockets and shuffling on his feet. “You’re just uncharacteristically late for it. Everything okay?”

Steve glanced at his watch. “If I didn’t miss it why are you here?”

“We, uh... took a short break and I came looking for you. The Governor is not pleased that her golden boy’s late.”

“It’s just... it’s just one of those days, Danny,” the Five-0 leader admitted, leaning back in his chair with a resigned expression on his face. “Roof’s been leaking at the house so I’m having it fixed, but the check I wrote to cover the repair work bounced and I have no idea why. Took me half an hour to convince the guy I wasn’t trying to scam him and that he’ll get his money by the end of the day, so now I need to deposit my pay or I’ll be sleeping in a house with no roof tonight.” 

Danny shook his head, barely stifling a laugh. “Didn’t you set your account up for direct deposit?”

“Yes, of course I have, but for some reason it isn’t working and I really need that roof fixed.” He stood up, looked at his watch again. “Bank’s just down the street. I’ll be back in ten. Cover for me, will you?” he said before fleeing the room, not giving Danny time to reply.

The blond detective rolled his eyes. “When do I _not?_ ”

A few minutes later, Steve was standing in front of the ATM, glaring at the words ‘out of order’ mocking him from the video terminal. He looked at the bank’s entrance with a scowl on his face, wondering if he’d have enough time to get in and solve whatever issue was holding up his money before the Governor decided to fire him. 

He had slept in the weirdest places in the direst condition during his deployments, but right now the ‘no roof / no job’ scale tipped firmly towards the former.

Sighing, he said a silent prayer that the place wouldn’t be crowded and headed inside. 

There were twelve customers before him, he noticed, standing in three different lines. Steve chose the shortest one, only to realize with dismay that it was also the slowest. As the minutes ticked by, he watched four people do their business and leave while his line didn’t move an inch. 

_I’m screwed_ , he thought to himself. _I am totally and completely screwed_. 

Had he not been distracted by the wail of a child in a bright red stroller, frustrated by how slowly the line was moving, and eager to get away, he would have easily noticed the man standing by himself in a corner, nervously looking around, wearing a zipped-up, tattered army green jacket that was unusual for the day’s warm temperature.

Had he recognized he was up to no good, he would have warned the tellers or moved closer to try and tackle him to the ground.

All these thoughts ran through Steve’s head the moment he saw the man draw a weapon from under his jacket and make his intentions clear. 

“Everybody on the floor, face down! You know what this is!”

A chorus of hysterical ‘oh, god!’ and ‘please don’t shoot us!’ echoed around the room as everybody froze in their tracks and instinctively raised their hands.

“Shut up! On the ground, right now!”

Mid-thirty, about six feet tall, he had unruly blond hair loosely tied into a ponytail and a stubbled face. His skin was pasty, his eyes crazed, and the hand holding the gun betrayed a slight tremble that made the hair on the back of Steve’s neck stand on edge. The man was obviously high on something, and in a room full of civilians things could go downhill fast. Real fast.

He knelt down, motioning the others to do the same. “You’re the boss,” he said in a flat, non-threatening voice as he lay on his stomach next to a young woman who was sobbing quietly. “It’s alright,” he tried to reassure her. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“You heard him, I’m in charge so let’s start setting some rules!” 

Moving with surprising agility, he reached for a grocery bag one of the customers had left unattended and spilled its content onto the floor. “Cell phones, toss them inside,” he ordered, passing the bag to one of the hostages who promptly got on his feet and started to collect them. “Any of you tries something, you’re dead, you hear me?”

Everyone nodded, complying with the instructions and filling the bag with their devices as the man watched, gun still trained on the cowering group.

Steve held onto his a second longer, trying to figure out a way to call for help until the young man holding the bag stopped in front of him with a pleading look in his eyes and he caved in. 

No point in upsetting a deranged robber. 

Plus, he still had his gun, safely hidden by his shirt and his prone position. 

He would find another way.

Task completed, the man took the bag and tossed it to the far corner of the room, away from everyone, and approached the tellers that were huddled in a separate group near one of the large, glass-covered windows. He pointed the gun at one of them, a middle-aged Hawaiian woman with a white plumeria flower in her head, and motioned her to go behind the counter. 

“You, put the money in a bag, right now.”

The woman nodded and did as instructed.

“Quickly! And don’t try anything stupid!” He wiped a hand over his sweaty face, eyes darting nervously around the room. “Nobody moves, you understand? Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt!” 

The frightened teller began to remove the money from the register. “Let's go, lady. Let's go. Let's go. Let's go! The quicker you go, the quicker I go!” Unbeknownst to the robber, she also had the presence of mind to push the silent alarm with her foot. She had been a faithful employee for over twenty-five years, and was determined not to let the skinny haole in front of her ruin her last week on the job.

Steve met her gaze as she handed the bag full of money back to the man who was, if possible, even more nervous and started filling another one. He, along with the rest of Five-0, was a regular at the bank because of its proximity to the Palace and all employees knew who they were so when she nodded at him slightly, he understood that she had called for help. 

He just needed to distract the robber until they came.

***

“... and we’ve witnessed a twenty-percent drop in the homicide rate and a thirty-five percent drop in the overall crime trend...”

Danny was in hell. 

Despite his minor in Business, sitting in the Governor’s office listening to a nameless suit from the Mayor’s team give a boring report, complete with PowerPoint presentations and multi-colored graphics, was his personal idea of Hades. The guy’s flat delivery and meaningless pauses would’ve put any sane individual to sleep, and after thirty-two minutes he was genuinely surprised no one had stopped him or called another break.

“The crime report.” Governor Mahoe’s voice filtered through the fog in his mind, bringing him to attention. “That brings us to Commander McGarrett. Is he going to grace us with his presence?”

Danny’s gaze moved from the conspicuously empty chair next to him to the woman’s stern, disappointed face. “I, uh... I don’t know, ma’am, but I’m gonna find out.” 

Giving her the sincerest, most apologetic look he could muster, he excused himself and left the office.

***

“Hey! Hey, leave her alone!”

If there was something Steve McGarrett couldn’t tolerate, it was the thought of innocent people hurt or endangered for no reason. Or for entirely the wrong reason.

From his position on the ground, he watched the robber roughly grab the teller’s arm and push her forward, his other hand still grasping the gun pointed at the woman who apparently wasn’t moving as fast as he wanted. The pale, sweat-dotted face turned, pinning him with a sharp glare.

Steve didn’t budge. “She did what you asked, man. Let her go. We’re all doing what you asked…” He wasn’t the patient one, the one comfortable with doing all the talking. Danny usually mastered that task while he focused on the action. But Danny wasn’t here, and Steve was very grateful for that so he figured he could try and reason with the guy as he waited for his chance to take him down.

“I’m not done...” the man muttered, as if to himself, scratching his temple with the barrel of his pistol. “We’re not done yet… Keys, get your keys!” he barked at the woman. “We’re gonna open up the ATM!” 

Grabbing her by the collar of her shirt as soon as she did, he directed her towards the machine.

Steve’s gaze followed them as they moved, until it faltered and then completely stopped as soon as he saw his partner approaching from the other side of the street.

Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_! 

He was up on his feet before his conscious brain could register the movement, drawing the gunman’s attention. “Hey, lock the doors! You forgot to lock the front doors!” But it was too late. Danny sauntered into the bank, oblivious to the threat, paused for a second as he took in the scene in front of him and immediately reached for his weapon. 

Steve did the same, aiming his own gun at the man’s back. “Five-0! Drop your weapon!” 

His voice rose over the collective gasp coming from the hostages and the teller’s panicked yelp as the robber tightened his grip on the woman and yanked her close, using her as a shield. 

“You drop it!” he countered, training his Beretta on Danny. 

“I’d do as he says, man,” the blond detective responded, unfazed by the threat. “There’s two of us and one of you.”

He could see Steve inching closer and figured it was only a matter of time before he had the man subdued and cuffed.

Boy, was he wrong...

Gaze shifting nervously back and forth between the two task force members, the man stubbornly refused to comply. “I ain’t dropping nothing. You put yours down or I’ll shoot her!”

“And what do you think I'll do then?” Danny snapped. He loved his job, but days like this put a damper on the positivity he was trying to live by and made him reconsider the idea of giving up the restaurant. And all because of stupid sons of bitches like this one who had decided it would be a good idea today to rob a bank and risk innocent people’s lives. 

As the three men stood in a standoff, pointing guns at each other, the kid in the red stroller let out another piercing wail that made everyone jump. Startled, and not really familiar with how to properly handle a firearm, the robber turned towards the sound and instinctively fired a shot. 

He wasn’t aiming at anyone in particular, and sure hadn’t planned on things to fail so spectacularly. He just needed some quick money. Should have been in and out in ten minutes before fricking Five-0 ruined his day. Now, he thought to himself as he looked at the body in front of him and heard the hostages’ panicked screams, he’d be lucky if they handed him a one-way ticket to Halawa.

Taking advantage of the commotion, the Hawaiian woman he was holding twisted away from his grasp and ran to hide behind the counter. 

He didn’t stop her. 

If he was going down, he’d do that with a bang.

Taking a deep breath, he faced the blond cop and raised his weapon in warning.

“I said _you_ drop it.”

Danny stared at him in shock, then slowly lowered his gun.

***

“He’s... he’s not dead... You’re not a murderer yet.”

The Jersey native didn’t recognize the terror-stricken voice coming out of his mouth, nor did he realize that the wetness trailing down his cheeks was his own tears. The only thing he was aware of was the blood, the frightening amount of it covering his best friend’s head, face and chest, and the feeling of everything going in slow motion. 

Steve hadn’t stirred since he had fallen to the ground. How long ago, Danny couldn’t say. He had watched in riveted horror as the bullet from the man’s gun had hit him on the side of the head, flinging him backwards, stared powerlessly at the way the back of his skull had bounced off the floor thinking this was it, that SuperSEAL’s luck had finally run out and this worthless piece of trash had actually killed him.

And the worst thing was, it hadn’t even been premeditated. 

The robber had sensed danger and reacted without even thinking, squeezing the trigger just as Steve was making his move to disarm him and firing a lucky shot that could now have potentially devastating consequences.

“Please. He needs medical attention...” As much as he hated to plead and show him weakness, Danny knew it was vital to the cause. Just until he could check on Steve and get them out of this mess. Then he would end him. “We’re not going anywhere. Just... let me help him.”

The rise and fall of his partner’s chest did nothing to quell his fears. He had seen his fair share of head wounds and knew they bled a lot. He also knew that a few millimeters could make a difference between a graze, a fractured skull and irreparable brain damage, and the fact that Steve wasn’t moving sent all kind of alarms off in his brain.

“What’s your name?” he blurted. He had tried anger, threatened to shoot him, appealed to whatever shred of decency was left in his drug-addled brain. All to no avail. The pool of blood under Steve’s head was growing larger and larger and Danny gritted his teeth, chasing away the thought that his best friend may be bleeding to death while he was just standing there doing nothing to help. “Look, I gotta call you something, alright? How about John? It's a nice... honest name. John?”

Everything was quiet around him, customers and employees all staying silent despite their own fears out of respect for the fallen man.

The robber stared at him for a long moment, a bewildered expression on his face like it was the most ridiculous question he’d ever been asked. Then he lowered his gun. “Bernard.”

“Bernard,” Danny repeated in a broken voice. If it was any other day, he would’ve laughed at the odds of a Hawaiian with such a peculiar name. Today, he didn’t care. He just needed Bernard to understand. “Let me check on my partner, please. I give you my word I won’t try anything.”

“Your cell phone. Toss it,” the young man instructed. 

He wordlessly complied. Spreading his arms out in surrender, he crouched down to place it on the ground before kicking it away.

Then Bernard finally nodded his head. 

Releasing the breath he didn’t know he had been holding, Danny rushed to his friend’s side.

***

There was a cold, hard surface underneath him.

Voices filtering into his consciousness, disjointed words penetrating the fog of pain blanketed around him. 

A warm presence at his side. Hands touching him, fingers reaching for his arm, his face, his throat. 

Steve instinctively rolled his head to the side and stopped, wincing when the throb in his skull flared and threatened to flicker out what little awareness he had managed to accomplish. 

“Hey… Steve, hey, stop. Don’t move…” 

_Danny_ …

Grasping onto the familiarity of the voice, he tried to force his way back to full consciousness. His senses awoke one after the other, and the first thing he became aware of was the feeling of something warm trailing down his face. He frowned and carefully tried to open his eyes. As soon as he got them to a half-mast the thick liquid seeped in, and all he could make out was a dizzying blur of white.

“Can’t… see,” he rasped, one hand reaching clumsily toward his friend in an involuntary moment of panic. 

Danny grasped it gently, leaning closer. “It’s alright, you’re alright, just... just give me a sec.” He looked up, eyes darting wildly from side to side, searching for something that could help. A moment later, a woman’s hand appeared in his field of vision, holding a scarf. “Here, use this,” she urged.

Nodding gratefully, he accepted the garment and used it to wipe the blood off his friend’s face, then cradled Steve’s head in his lap. “Better?”

Steve peeled his eyes open again and blinked sluggishly, willing them to focus. The light assaulting his retinas sent a stab of white-hot pain through his skull, but at least now he could see. “Y-yeah…” He barely managed to force the word out over a sudden wave of nausea and turned feebly into his friend’s touch as his heart continued to beat in sync with the merciless throb in his head.

“What h’pnd?” 

He should know, he chastised himself, he should remember, but everything was fuzzy and he just couldn’t think straight. There was a sense of urgency around him though. He could see it on Danny’s face, feel it in the way his partner’s hand was gripping his arm, and that spurred his confusion into awareness. 

He gazed blearily up, taking in his surroundings.

Bank. 

He went to the bank. 

There was a robbery. 

A gunshot. 

The burning feeling of hot metal flying across his head.

He sat up with a gasp, face twisting into a pasty-white mask of renewed agony at the movement that he tried to push down, deep down where it wouldn’t hurt because if they were still at the bank they were in danger, Danny was in danger, and he couldn’t let that happen…

“Hey, what did I say? You need to stay still, alright?” Startled by the sudden move, Danny firmly planted a hand against Steve’s chest, feeling the rapid pounding of his best friend’s heart as he pushed him gently back down. 

His other hand was still grasping the now bloodied scarf, applying pressure to the wound to his head. The bullet had grazed the scalp, pulling chunks of skin and hair off as it passed. Judging by its location, if Steve had been standing to his full height when Bernard had fired, he would have hit him in the brain.

The whirlwind of emotions of the last few minutes had left Danny completely drained. Anguish, for not being able to tell where or how bad Steve had been hit, panic as he had dropped to his knees to check for his pulse, relief upon finding the reassuring heartbeat under his fingers. 

“It’s not safe,” he added, referring to both Steve’s physical conditions and the situation they were in. The former SEAL seemed to have trouble tracking what was happening around him and he didn’t want to endanger any of them with a startled reaction or an untimely statement.

As if on cue, a shadow loomed above them and they both looked up to see Bernard staring at them, a menacing expression on his face. 

“I have to get my partner out of here,” Danny said hoarsely. “He needs a hospital. You can do the right thing here, man, let him go.”

“Sir, please. Listen to him,” the teller intercepted. “Don’t hurt anybody else. A whole lot of police are coming.”

Bernard stared at her, eyes widening in recognition and distress. “You tripped the alarm...”

***

“They’re supposed to call, right?” Bernard asked as he paced back and forth, sending worried glances every few steps at the SWAT and PD personnel gathered outside.

Danny shook his head, not even bothering to look up at him and focusing instead on keeping his partner still and his wound sealed. “I, uh… I don’t if they’re going to call.”

After the revelation that the teller had ignored his command and alerted the police, Bernard had nearly lost it. Three angry holes in the wall behind them remained as proof of the outburst. A forth had ricocheted and hit one of the prone customers in the leg. A minor wound, thankfully, that the mother of the wailing child had promptly dressed with an extra pair of sweatpants she’d packed for her son. 

The man heaved in a few harsh, ragged breaths. “I swear I’ll kill everyone in this freaking place if they come in here!”

This time, Danny raised his gaze. “They don’t know that, you understand? Hey, hey, look at me! They can’t see you. They don’t know what your plan is!”

“They better know... They damn well better figure it out!”

“Look... just take the money and go, alright?”

“Nice try, cop,” Bernard sneered. “The minute I get near that door they’re gonna blow my brains out!”

Danny looked down at Steve, who appeared to be barely conscious, and released a weary sigh. “I just want everybody to live, man, that’s all,” he said softly as his hand reached out to stroke his friend’s cheek. “Just... just go. I’m not gonna stop you.”

“I didn’t want this!” Bernard replied in a high-pitched tone as if seeing for the first time the consequences of his actions. “I didn’t want any of this…”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have tried to rob a bank and kill a cop…” the blond detective growled darkly, calling on his last reserve of patience.

Steve heard the anger coursing through his partner’s voice as awareness set in again, heard the depth of pain beneath the statement, and his first instinct was to launch himself at the guy and choke the life out of him for what he was putting Danny and all those innocent people through. His second, smarter response was to just stay where he was, allow the fog to clear from his brain and wait for the right moment to strike.

“...n’d to take’im down, D’ny...” he muttered, reaching up to grasp his friend’s shirt to get his attention. Through the blood rushing in his ears and the nausea building in his stomach, an idea had formed in his head and he shifted to curl on his right side, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“It’s alright, Steve, I got this,” Danny reassured him, and the affection he saw in his partner’s blue eyes and felt in the gentle touch on his face made his heart flutter with feelings that after so many years he still felt oh-so-lucky to experience. 

Then Danny squared his shoulders and faced the robber, who had grown more and more nervous by the second and Steve tensed, getting ready for action.

“Look, you’re in charge here, everybody knows it. It doesn't have to end like this...”

Through the glass door, the Jersey native could see the SWAT team approach the entrance and instinctively tightened the grip on his friend’s huddled form. He felt him tense at the same time he saw Bernard raise his arm to point the weapon at them, whispering a cold, detached “Yeah, it does...” 

A heartbeat later Steve shoved him aside, pulled his backup gun from his ankle holster, aimed and fired a single shot. Startled, Danny stared as Bernard’s body hit the ground, the weapon he had been holding clattering down next to him. 

“Shit,” he whispered breathlessly. 

The front doors swung open and the SWAT officers swarmed in, fanning out with synchronized precision to secure the building.

Danny barely gave them a second glance. Beside him, he saw Steve drop the gun, go still for a moment, then sag from his sitting position back to the ground, his pale face contorting in a grimace of pain.

“Steve!” he called as he crawled on his knees back to his side. “I’m right here, buddy, what’s wrong?”

He got his answer a second later when Steve rolled halfway, braced one hand on the floor to support himself and started to heave. Nausea had clawed at his throat as soon as he’d sat up to shoot Bernard, who was now laying on his stomach a few feet from him, and despite his attempts to force the bile down the painful cramps contracting his stomach had pushed everything up and out. 

Danny’s own stomach lurched at the sight of his best friend struggling to breathe, white as a sheet and lathered in sweat. “Get the paramedics in here!” he yelled as he reached out and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the bloodied scarf, rubbing his back in soothing circles with his other hand as Steve leaned into him and continued to retch until there was nothing left. 

“Danny! You guys alright?” 

Lou Grover’s baritone voice suddenly materialized behind him. “Lou... thank god,” he sighed in relief at the familiar presence. “Steve’s hurt, we need help!”

“I’m on it,” the older man reassured him before heading back out. 

As the hostages slowly left the bank, casting them rueful glances on the way out, Danny’s arm tightened around his partner’s shoulders. “Steve... hey, you’re alright...”

Steve swayed slightly and sank into his friend’s embrace. “My... h-head’s killin’ me...” he rasped out, his throat sore from all the retching. The room around him continued to swirl and he squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing convulsively.

“I know. Just hold on, help’s coming.” 

“Ev’rybody okay?”

“Yes,” a female voice said, and they both looked up to see the teller smile gratefully at them. “Everyone’s okay. Thanks to you, Commander.”

Danny smiled back, nodding at her before one of the SWAT officers escorted her outside. 

“Look at you, huh? Saving the day again...”

Steve’s brows crunched in confusion and he blinked dazedly at him. “Don’t feel good, man…” he admitted, running a trembling hand over his mouth. “What is wrong with me?” 

Danny frowned, but decided not to panic. Still holding on to him, he brushed the scarf over his friend’s lips, wiping away what he had missed. “You got shot. Bullet grazed your head.” Thoughts raced through his mind, memories of a similar injury in a different building, of nights spent on the bathroom floor as Steve fought against the poison ravaging his body. He had been there through it all —the concussions, the bullets, and each time it was more terrifying than the other, because he feared that it could be the last. “You’re one lucky son of a bitch, you know that?”

Steve’s only response was to close his eyes and go lax under his touch.

“Hey, no sleeping until the paramedics get here, you hear me?” Danny cried out, tapping him lightly on the cheek to rouse him from his slumber.

Despite feeling wrung out, disoriented and weak, the former SEAL allowed a faint smile to stretch his lips. “Okay, Danno...”

***

At the hospital, they sutured the gash with eight stitches, gave him fluids and antiemetics and admitted him for observation. The doctor asked him a bunch of routine questions to evaluate memory and concentration skills, and tested coordination and reflexes. He also ordered a CT scan to rule out bleeding or other serious brain injury. Danny insisted they did an MRI too, just to be safe, and both came back negative.

At the mere mention of the words ‘overnight stay’ a few hours later, Steve announced that there was no way he would spend the night there when there was nothing they could do for him and he had a perfectly good bed waiting for him at home. 

That was before he remembered about his leaking rooftop, and that he had never deposited his check or solved his issue. 

Not to mention the missed meeting with the Governor.

Danny once again came to the rescue, informing him that he had updated the Governor while he was asleep and that she’d passed along her congratulations for a job well done and her wishes for a speedy recovery. He had also sent Lou to his house to tell the guy doing the repair work that the head of Five-0 had just saved 12 people during a bank robbery and deserved his roof fixed ASAP if he didn’t want the whole team unleashed on his ass.

Complying with the Commander’s request, the doctor prescribed him medications, gave instructions they both knew by heart and recommended follow-up medical attention if the symptoms worsened before releasing him into Danny’s care.

Steve spent the ride home slumped in the passenger seat, eyes closed, right hand perched on the window and holding his throbbing head. It was weird to see him so compliant and quiet but then again, the man was used to licking his own wound in silence.

When Danny helped him into bed after a light meal and the first round of medications, frowning at the whimpering sounds his friend tried to restrain but couldn’t, he promised him that the pain was only temporary, and that he would be okay soon. 

It turned out to be a lie.

 

TBC?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I was completely overwhelmed by the response to this story, and the not-so-subtle hints to add a second part to it. ;) Thank you so much, everyone. Although I take it very seriously this is just a hobby, so knowing my efforts are appreciated motivates me to write more.  
> Therefore, you get an extra-long chapter.  
> The story took a complete different direction than what I had first planned, and I ended up with an 18-page document without even realizing it. Hope you guys like it. My lovely friend Racoon_SA was the one who suggested the medical condition I used to explain Steve’s symptoms and behavior. She thought it would be interesting to see him deal with it. Let’s see if what I came up with does it justice.
> 
> A special thank you to my beta Susan, whose input was crucial to steer me in the right direction. If this chapter is good, I owe it to her.

***

“People don’t just disappear, Danny! This is our only chance!”

“That’s insane! It’s not gonna work and you know it.”

Steve bit his lip at his partner’s comment, fighting the urge to tell him to shut it. A surge of anger rose within him and he pushed it back down, afraid he would say something he’d regret later. Instead, he turned around and simply walked away, leaving Danny and the rest of the team standing around the smart table while he headed toward his office.

He gripped the door handle a little too hard and paused for a moment to catch his breath before stepping inside. The silence that greeted him felt like music to his ears and he sunk in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk and his throbbing head between his hands. 

It had been a week since the bank robbery, and the debilitating headaches he’d been suffering because of Bernard’s bullet were taking their toll on him. He barely slept, couldn’t keep anything down and, if the dark shadows under his eyes were any indication, the symptoms were getting worse instead of better. 

Having been knocked around more times than he liked to remember, he was pretty familiar with recovery times. One week —two tops, was the normal timeframe to heal from a concussion. Whatever was going on with him was obviously not the progress he had expected or experienced in the past. He may have been guilty of ignoring the warning signs, but he had genuinely thought the 48 hours of rest he’d gotten were enough, and that he would’ve been able to perform his professional and personal obligations after that.

What he hadn’t factored in was the string of murders that had started plaguing the island, prompting the Governor to demand that they put an end to it, whatever it took. Still feeling guilty about missing their last meeting, Steve had all but sworn to her that that he would do whatever was in his power to bring the killer to justice. Or else. Which, in turn, had led to 18-hour days, missed medications and an overload of stress he really didn’t need. 

His personal needs, as usual, had been pushed to the sidelines for the greater good.

Five days into it, he was strung too tight and running on fumes, barely able to focus and not even half the leader they expected him to be.

They would understand. Of course they would. And yet he had chosen to keep his team in the dark. He hadn’t even told Danny, though he was sure his friend had picked up on it. The man was incredibly perceptive and so attuned to his needs that anything barely escaped his notice.

As if on cue, there was a light knock on the glass door. Steve raised his head to find his partner standing in the doorway, a frown on his face. 

“You should get some rest.”

Any doubt that Danny hadn’t noticed his distress vanished as soon as he heard his words. There was no trace of anger in his tone, only concern. That was how it worked between him and Danny: they could raise their voices and call each other names, then take a bullet for the other five minutes later.

“I will when this case is over.” 

“I’m serious, man, you look like crap. There’s nothing we can do right now. Let’s call it a day.”

Steve sighed, deflating in his chair. “How? How can we do that, Danny? Someone else could get killed tonight, could be in danger right now in this very moment and we’re just sitting on our asses!” 

Danny walked up to the desk and sat in one of the armchairs. “We’re doing everything we can, babe. And we’ve been running ourselves ragged for almost a week now. Everyone’s exhausted. What good are we to these people if we can’t do our job right?”

It was true. Steve would never admit it out loud but his partner had a point. They were getting nowhere, and the frustration for the lack of breaks had let everyone’s spirit down. He leaned his head back against his chair and closed his eyes, willing the pain away. “It’s just a headache,” he said softly, feeling the other man’s stare over his closed lids. 

“Okay. Then go home and take care of it. I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

“Alright,” he conceded with a sigh. “I’ll send everyone home.” 

With some luck, tomorrow would be a better day.

***

Nights were especially worse.

If headaches, dizziness and fatigue ruled his days, insomnia haunted his dark hours.

The bed was soft, the duvet comfortable —even the temperature in the room was perfect each time but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t fall asleep.

On good nights, he’d get three hours. He would close his eyes and breath slowly and rhythmically until he dozed off, waking abruptly some time later, gasping as if he’d just surfaced from under water.

On bad nights, barely two. The breaths would catch in his throat and his head would become foggy, like after a hangover but without drinking a drop. He’d toss from one side to the other, or gaze up at the ceiling until he decided he’d had enough, got up and walked downstairs.

Shuffling to the kitchen on yet another sleepless night, Steve grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and headed out to the lanai to sit on his favorite chair. Everything was dark around him but he didn’t mind, welcoming instead the absence of light and colors. The ocean had always been his safe place, the shelter he retreated to when he needed to escape reality. That hadn’t changed one bit since he was a kid.

Droplets of salty water sprayed on his skin as he closed his eyes and listened to the soothing sound of the waves rolling in. His lids felt heavy, and he could feel the pull of sleep somewhere at the back of his mind but it was too far away to reach so he tilted his aching head back and let the scent of the sea in his nostrils calm him down. 

He knew he couldn’t ignore the issue any longer, and resolved to make an appointment with his doctor soon. 

As soon as they got the killer.

If only he could manage to get some rest in between.

***

In all the years Danny had known him, Steve had never called in sick, missed work or even left early unless he was physically unable to perform his duties. Every time he showed up at the house to pick him up he’d find him already showered, dressed, and drinking his buttered coffee, an empty mug waiting on the counter so he could join him.

So when he found the door locked the next morning, the first thing he did was check his watch to make sure he wasn’t too early. Frowning at the validation that he was actually on time, he fished the keys out of his pocket and let himself in, disengaging the alarm. 

The living room was dark despite the early morning sun filtering in from the study, and oddly silent.  
It looked as if Steve wasn’t there, or had failed to catch up with the rest of the workers on the island who were already up and about to start their day.

Danny did a quick search of the first floor, noticing the lack of the usual smell of coffee greeting him from the kitchen and Eddie’s barks of excitement. Junior had probably taken the dog out for a run, he figured. The kid was just as crazy about his fitness routine as Steve was.

His mind played back the scene in the office the night before. He knew there was something bothering his friend, had noticed the shift in his behavior since the incident at the bank. Some of it was probably related to the case they were working on, to the stress of running around and finding no leads after almost a week. But Danny was sure there was more to it, though the only thing his partner had admitted to was the headaches he had been suffering from.

“Steve? Rise and shine, buddy, we’re gonna be late!” he called as he climbed up the stairs and headed toward the bedroom. “What, you tried to swim to Maui and back and finally realized that you’re human?”

Receiving no answer, he cautiously opened the door and stepped inside, surprised —and more than a little concerned, to find Steve still under the covers.

The curtains were drawn and his eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room and the fact that his friend wasn’t moving. He could make out his curled shape lying on his side and completely covered by the blankets.

“Steve… you alright?” he asked as he inched closer. Reaching out a hand, he touched what he assumed was his shoulder. “Hey, buddy, you awake?”

Steve drifted back into consciousness, muttering something under his breath. He rolled over and blinked blearily, lifting his head off the pillow. A blurred shape loomed over him but his eyes couldn’t focus. It was like watching a bad quality movie, staring at the world in low resolution.

He tensed, trying to sit up.

“Hey, hey, it’s me. Calm down!”

Confusion clouded his mind as he propped himself up on one elbow and tried to associate the voice with a name. “Wha… Danny?” 

The bed dipped as Danny sat down. “Yes, who else? What’s going on, you alright?”

Swallowing hard to fight the ever-present nausea that had reawakened as soon as he had, Steve pushed himself upright and closed his eyes, struggling to remember. Everything was fuzzy around the edges, making it difficult to retrieve the memories he needed.

The lanai.

Sitting outside in the dark.

Bathroom.

Medicine cabinet. 

“I... I think I took something to help me sleep.”

Which apparently wasn’t his brightest idea since he was barely able to function. Gritting his teeth, Steve rubbed his eyes before throwing the covers aside and swung his legs off the bed. His vision slowly sharpened back to normal but the headache was still there, relentless and as painful as ever.

One hand on the mattress for balance, he scrubbed the other over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Why are you here?”

Danny gave him a bewildered look, wondering if he should just punch him or drive him straight to the hospital. “Why am I— are you kidding me? Did those pills mess up with your head? I told you I was gonna pick you up. Duke’s bringing Makano over so we can interrogate him and we’re already late.” 

Steve had no idea who Makano was and couldn’t remember agreeing to his partner picking him up but nodded anyway and stood on unsteady legs, hoping whatever was wrong with his brain would fix itself as the seconds ticked by. He swayed, and instinctively reached out to Danny. A strong hand grabbed his bicep and prevented him from face-planting to the floor.

“Whoa, what’s with the wino impersonation? You sure you’re alright?”

No, he wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to let his partner in on that just yet.

“Yeah… pills just make me drowsy.”

Grasp still firm on his arm, Danny stared at him like he didn’t believe a word he’d said for a long moment, then pointed him towards the bathroom and proceeded to open the curtains. 

Pain lanced right between his eyes at the sudden brightness and Steve almost lost his footing again. “Don’t— don’t do that! Please…” Groaning, he put a hand in front of his eyes to shield them and staggered to the bathroom, closing the door behind him against the offending light.

Bracing his hands on the sink, he took a couple of deep breaths as if he could will the flaring headache away, then searched the mirrored cabinet for something that would, if not keep it at bay, at least lessen its strength.

Ten minutes later, after a shower and a quick shave, he emerged feeling somewhat human again. His memories were still a bit fuzzy, but some of the case details had started to return, including the identity of the suspect they were going to interrogate. 

Steve counted his blessings for the small victory, and hoped to be able to get through the day.

***

Makano’s interrogation led to surprisingly good intel about the location of the criminal they’d been trying to catch, which in turn led to Five-0 rushing to said address, sirens blaring, and executing a raid that they barely had time to prepare.

Danny’s concern, spiked by Steve’s even-more-reckless-than-usual driving, skyrocketed when his partner failed to respond to him over the comm after disappearing to go after their suspect. 

His frantic calls were only met by static, fueling his fears that what he’d witnessed that morning was just the tip of the iceberg and that there was something seriously wrong with Steve that he should have noticed. Tightening the straps of his tac vest, he summoned Junior and Lou and headed towards the side of the building where they’d last seen him. 

A humming sound could be heard from the hallway, loud enough to upset their already frayed psyches. Weapons drawn, the trio carefully inspected every room and hidden corner for signs of their missing friend until they noticed a human shape slumped next to the exit door. Danny’s initial relief was short-lived when he moved closer and realized it wasn’t Steve he was looking at but their killer lying unconscious on the floor, ankles and wrists zip tied so that he couldn’t escape. 

“What the hell?”

Grover’s expletive matched the bewildered expressions on their faces. What they were seeing made no sense. Steve had obviously been there, apprehended the suspect, incapacitated him and then… left? 

“Lou…” Danny said, searching his eyes. He needed to move forward, continue to search for Steve.

“I got it, I got it…” the Captain replied, bending over to slap the man’s face and haul him to his feet. “Wake up, Princess. Time to go!” 

As the serial murderer woke with a start and realized his days as a free man were over, Danny motioned Junior to follow him outside. The young SEAL nodded and raised his MK18, positioning himself on the other side of the back door leading to the alley that branched out to connect the building to a few other neighboring stores.

The humming, even louder now, was coming from one of the neon lights above them, and Danny resisted the urge to shoot the damn thing to make it stop. A moment later, Lou’s voice came back through his earbud.

“Danny?”

“What?”

“I had a little chat with our new friend here, and he’s volunteered some information about Steve.”

“Volunteered?” Danny inquired, imagining just the kind of ‘persuasion’ it must’ve taken for a cold-blooded serial murdered like Damon Jay Savage to volunteer anything.

“What can I say?” Grover shrugged. “I can be pretty damn convincing. Anyway, he said Steve looked disoriented, that he could barely stand on his feet and kept grabbing at his head as if he was in pain.”

Danny swallowed hard. “Was he hurt?”

“Don’t think so. He said that— hey, what’d I tell you? Not another peep or I’ll lock your ass up in solitary for the rest of your days!” There was a noise and a grunt as if Grover had punched the guy in the face before he addressed Danny again. “What’s going on, man, he alright? If you ask me, he hasn’t been himself since that bank robbery…”

“I don’t know, Lou, but the minute I find him I’m gonna drag his ass to the hospital whether he likes it or not!”

As he shook his head, relishing the epic rant that he knew would start as soon as he made sure his partner was okay, Junior drew his attention to the left. A few feet away, discarded to the ground, lay Steve’s tac vest. Fresh bloodstains were visible on the ground beside it. 

Danny stepped forward, a frown on his face. 

“The intel was clear, right? Savage had no accomplices?” Worry seeped into Junior’s voice as he reasoned out loud to find a suitable explanation. 

“No,” the blond detective confirmed. “No accomplices. He works alone.”

“Then what are we missing?”

“I have no idea, man... I have no idea.”

Both men looked around, frantically searching for clues, but there was no sign of Steve anywhere. 

What the hell had happened to him? 

The question haunted Danny for the longest ten minutes of his life. If he had a penny for every alley he’d searched, every abandoned warehouse they had scoured looking for Steve, he’d be a rich man right now. 

Instead, he felt physically sick to his stomach and struggled to push back the unwanted memories that his brain was conjuring up as they turned yet another corner. And finally there he was, propped up against a wall, passed out cold but apparently unharmed except for a bloodied nose. 

Danny sighed in relief, until his excitement turned into panic when he tried to rouse him and couldn’t. 

As Junior called for an ambulance and helped him lie Steve down on his back, he reached out shaky fingers to check for a pulse, and was unable to move them until the paramedic arrived and reassured him that there was nothing serious and that his partner would be alright. 

That was, of course, until Danny got his hands on him.

***

“Clinical fatigue? What... what is it?”

Danny had an idea of what the words the doctor had just spoken meant. In fact, he had more than one and none of his scenarios was good, but he asked anyway. 

Steve was lying on the bed, eyes closed. They had given him enough painkillers to take the edge off his blinding headache but he was still oddly quiet and unresponsive. It was as if he not only trusted Danny, but expected him to be in charge in situations like this. 

And Danny obliged, because it made him feel useful, and because he cared deeply about the crazy Neanderthal. 

The physician pushed her glasses up her nose and gave him a weary smile. Mid-thirties, posture of a soldier, she had gentle eyes and delicate features, radiating an aura of serenity that had immediately put them at ease. “Commander McGarrett’s blood pressure and heart rate are elevated, and his cortisol levels are low. I think that’s what caused him to pass out. Now mind you, this is usually a symptom of other underlying conditions, so I’d like to run some tests to know more.”

She approached the bed and put a hand on Steve’s thigh. “Commander, I’m Doctor Elizabeth Evans. You were unconscious when they brought you in. How are you feeling?”

Danny held his breath, expecting the word ‘fine’ to come out of his partner’s mouth. 

“Better,” Steve whispered instead. “Thanks, Doc.”

“I need to ask you some questions. Is that alright?”

“Yeah.” 

She studied his medical chart for a moment. “I see Doctor Stewart treated you last week for a bullet graze. Did you hit your head when you fell?”

The former SEAL blinked, unsure of what to say. He still didn’t have a clear recollection of what had happened inside the bank after Bernard had shot him, so he turned to Danny who nodded in the affirmative.

“Yes, he did.” His gaze instinctively went to the tuff of shorter hair on his friend’s head marking the spot they’d had to shave to treat the wound and the still healing scar in the middle of it. Those moments were seared into his memory, and the details of the incident haunted him almost every night. 

The young physician nodded as well and turned back to Steve. “How about today? Do you remember what happened before you passed out?”

“Not really. I was chasing a suspect, then there was this … noise. Had to get out of there. I don’t know, it’s all fuzzy…” he admitted in a disheartened voice.

“Your partner tells me you’ve been experiencing headaches?”

“Yes. They’re growing more frequent and painful.”

“What else?” she asked. “And please be honest. The more I know, the better I can help.” 

Steve sighed in defeat. “Dizziness. Sensitivity to noise and light. Ringing in my ears.”

Danny’s eyes widened at the list of symptoms his friend had apparently hidden from him. 

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” The doctor continued, writing notes on her patient’s chart.

“Yeah. I, uh... I also experienced a few episodes of short-term memory loss.” He glanced briefly towards Danny then settled his gaze on the doctor. “This is messing with my life, Doc, how do I fix it?”

She smiled at him warmly. “I’m afraid there’s no easy fix, Commander. I’ll have the nurse draw some blood while I schedule your tests. I’ll know more once the results are in.”

Resigned, Steve leaned back against the pillow and raised one arm to cover his eyes. “Okay. Thanks, Doc.”

“You’re welcome. Try to get some rest, you’ve earned it.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Danny said as he opened the door and followed her outside.

Nervously wringing his hands, he waited until she was done instructing the nurse before voicing his concerns. “So, uh... what do you think it is? Is he gonna be alright?”

Doctor Evans put her hands into the pockets of her white coat. “I have an idea, but like I said I want to run some tests first. I’ll see you in a few hours, Detective. Have the nurse page me if anything changes.”

“Will do. Thank you.”

Danny watched her disappear inside one of the elevators and started to pace to let off some steam. While he knew there was nothing life-threatening —well, nothing new at least, he could sense this was not one of their regular trips to the ER and wished his friend had told him what was bothering him.

Even after nearly a decade of friendship, Steve lived by this weird belief that he should deal with his problems on his own. Danny didn’t agree, but had learned to understand it and give him the space he needed.

With a veil of sadness clouding his features, he went back to Steve’s room. His partner was in the same position as he’d left him, but he could tell he wasn’t asleep.

“You should’ve told me,” he said softly, pulling the nearby chair and sitting down beside him. 

Steve gave him an apologetic look as he picked at the edge of his blanket. “I honestly thought it would pass.”

“Instead it got worse.”

“Yeah. My head’s not…” he started, trying to explain. “It’s not like it was before. There’s a weight… like a shadow…” A muscle in his jaw twitched with barely contained frustration. “I can’t explain it. I can hardly understand it myself, Danny, let alone tell you...”

Moved by the sincerity and the anguish in his friend’s voice, the Jersey native put a reassuring hand on his forearm. “You don’t need to explain anything, especially not right now. Do me a favor, alright? Get some sleep like the doctor said. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Steve nodded. “Thanks, Danny.”

Relaxing in his chair, he watched Steve slowly doze off. His head lolled onto the pillow, his eyelids slipped closed and his body went limp. Coming from a week of barely getting any sleep, the man was completely exhausted, and the medications they’d given him were finally allowing him the rest he so desperately needed. In spite of the situation, Danny allowed a small smile to curl his lips as he listened to his friend’s now even breaths. The expression on his face no longer stressed by pain and the constraints of his conscious mind, Steve looked vulnerable and childlike, and Danny wished he could see this side of him more often. 

Pushing aside the overwhelming feeling to protect him at all costs, he took out his cell phone and updated the team.

***

“I take it you know what it is.”

“I do. I just…”

“You just never thought it could happen to you,” the young physician smiled sympathetically. “I understand. It’s not uncommon for people affected by PCS to downplay the extent of their symptoms or avoid acknowledging them.”

Pressing his lips together, Steve tried to process what Doctor Evans had told him.  
All his tests – MRI, x-rays, blood analysis, had come back negative. Just like they had after the shooting. And yet she seemed positive she knew what was wrong with him.

PCS. Post-concussion syndrome.

He had heard of that during active duty, had seen sailors affected by it. Only, like he had sheepishly admitted, with all that was already going on with him health-wise he didn’t think he’d have to add another illness to the list.

Beside him, forehead creased, Danny was equally struggling to deal with the diagnosis. “Doc, can you, uh...can you explain to me what that means, please? In English?”

She looked at Steve, then back at him. “Of course. Post-concussion syndrome is a complex disorder. The symptoms your partner’s experiencing — headaches, dizziness, sleep problems, are caused by structural damage to the brain or the nerves from the impact that induced the concussion. 

“So it is related to what happened last week?”

“Yes and no.” Noticing the puzzled expression on her patient’s face, she turned her attention on him. “What happened at the bank can be considered the last straw, but according to your medical history, your lifestyle is a likely factor. Previous concussions, prolonged recoveries, post-traumatic stress disorder. I often see this in soldiers, so it’s no surprise that a member of the government’s elite has been affected by it. You’ve been putting yourself in harm’s way for decades, Commander. I’d say you’re lucky it’s only happening now.”

Steve didn’t feel lucky at all, but he pushed the retort back down.

“How do you treat it?” 

Once again, it was Danny who voiced what he had in mind. 

The doctor folded her arms across her chest. “Management of PCS is mostly a matter of resting and allowing the brain’s natural recovery process the time to heal. We’ll put together a plan, a regime of medications and therapy, but it may take weeks for it to work, if not months.”

Steve’s face lost what little color had regained.

_Months?_

This wasn’t happening. 

This couldn’t be true.

Doctor Evans stepped over to the bed. “Commander, I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but I’m not going to sugarcoat this and you need to know that things could get worse before they get better. It’s important that you understand that.” She watched him nod in agreement even if the storm in his eyes said otherwise. “Now, I assume you have a fitness routine?”

“I do,” Steve said, still reeling from the shock of another long-term illness. “I swim and run every morning.”

“I’d recommend you stop doing that, at least for now. While there are studies that have shown a link between increased physical activity and quicker recovery, I don’t want you to strain yourself at this stage. We can reassess that in a couple of weeks.”

Feeling numb and completely overwhelmed, he saw Danny collapse into the chair next to the bed and lower his head, eyes closed. And when the pain-relieving effects of the medications wore off and the ringing in his ears returned a few moments later, Steve let it drown every other sound and tuned the world out.

***

_“Doc, how can I help him?”_

_“By being understanding and supportive.”_

_Sighing in defeat, Danny looked at Doctor Evans like a drowning man desperate for salvation._

_“Detective Williams, PCS can be extremely disruptive. Patients have to adjust to avoid activities and situations that cause their symptoms to worsen, and it can seriously impact their personal and professional life.”_

_She put a hand on his bicep and steered him out of earshot._

_“Commander McGarrett may have to progressively remove himself from loud, bright, crowded, or over-stimulating situation. He may not be able to handle noises or crowds, but he will still need to spend time with friends so offer a movie night, or just pay him a visit and talk. Offer encouragement, remind him that this is likely temporary and that he’ll get back to his old routine when he’s feeling better.”_

_Danny nodded._

_He could do that. They barely had a social life anyway, and enjoying each other’s company had always been far more preferable than any gathering or crowded event._

_“What about work? That’s… Steve’s afraid he won’t be able to do the job anymore, and I know for a fact that it would absolutely kill him.”_

_Doctor Evans lowered his gaze. “That might be a little more complicated,” she said with a sigh. “Right now, his brain is overloaded with stimuli. I’m not sure it’s a good idea for him to lead a task force or even carry a gun.”_

_“He’s not gonna like this...”_

_“I know. I’ll discuss it with him later.”_

Three weeks had passed since Danny’s heartfelt conversation with Doctor Evans, and things had only gone downhill from there. Steve’s symptoms hadn’t improved, and the mood swings resulting from that were putting his patience —and their friendship, to the test. 

Danny understood his partner was scared and upset. He had every right to be. Confined in the house for the best part of his days, he had turned into a caged animal whose only defense was to lash out at everyone who tried to get close. 

Work was everything to Steve, and colliding with a reality that had forcibly teared him away from it had been too much to handle. 

He had tried going in at first, thinking he might just need to reduce the workload and everything would be fine. What he found out instead was that he also had vision problems and difficulties concentrating, which made it impossible for him to be out in the field. And that was just what Danny had figured out. God knows what he was actually hiding under his ‘tough guy’ exterior. 

Realizing that the kind of normalcy, the reassuring routine he’d come to rely on to get through his days had been disrupted, Steve didn’t know what to do with himself or how to address his fears and all the pent-up energy building up inside him.

So he had segregated himself at the house. 

The usually bright and welcoming place was now always dark. He claimed it helped him with the light sensitivity, but Danny felt it was Steve’s way of shutting everyone and everything out.

When he wasn’t in bed trying to sleep through the headaches he would sit on his recliner, lost in whatever world he escaped to try and cope with the situation. He had systematically declined every invitation and every offer received. Politely, but decisively. Even the thought of spending time with Charlie hadn’t appealed to him, and he loved the kid as if he was his own.

Concerned, Danny had called the doctor, inquiring about the changes in personality and the apathy towards everything that his friend had always enjoyed. She’d said it was unfortunate but expected, that the more active the patient’s lifestyle was the more difficult it was to learn to deal with the rest of the world going on with their lives while they got stuck in a loop of pain and despair. 

She had repeated the same advice. Be understanding and supportive.

Danny was trying. God help him he was, but it was getting harder and harder.

***

Steve stood in the middle of his living room, breathing harshly, a stricken expression on his face.  
Staring at the closed front door that his best friend had just slammed behind him, he realized that he’d gone too far, probably alienating the only person on the planet who still gave a damn about him. The only person he cared about more than everyone else.

Danny had been nothing but supportive during his whole ordeal, and he’d repaid him by being an unappreciative ass, directing his anger at him when he should’ve focused it on himself and failing to control his reactions like the Navy had drilled into him for decades.

Taking a wobbly step back, he slowly blinked huge, watery eyes. 

He had made a mistake.

A huge, inexcusable mistake.

The sound of the Camaro pulling away from the driveway felt deafening to his ears.

As his heart hammered into his chest and breathing suddenly became a struggle, Steve clamped his trembling fingers over his mouth and sank onto the recliner.

_“What if I can’t be a cop anymore, Danny?”_

_It had taken him weeks to finally voice his biggest fear since being diagnosed with PCS. They’d just come back from one of his checkups and his already foul mood had plummeted at the doctor’s admission that maybe things weren’t going as they’d hoped. That, along with an unpleasant ride home that had seen him gripping the roof handle, eyes closed, and breathing through his nose so he wouldn’t get sick, had reawakened a side of him he rarely brought to life._

_“No one said that.” Danny replied, trying his best to do damage control. Heart equally heavy, he had followed his friend into the house knowing that a storm was about to break and hoping to contain it as much as he could. “The doc still thinks the damage isn’t permanent. Your brain just needs time to heal.”_

_“It’s been four weeks!”_

_“So what? What if you need four more? It’s gonna get better, Steve. You just have to believe it.”_

_But Steve couldn’t. Right now, it was just too hard._

_“Doctor Evan’s plan is not working,” he said, wincing at the intensity of his own voice. “I take dozens of medications every day and I’m not getting better! I just can’t do this anymore...”_

_Danny moved closer, placing a tentative hand on his arm. “Babe, come on. I know you’re scared, but she said it was going to take time. You just have to be patient and do whatever it takes to help your recovery.”_

_“There is no recovery, Danny!” Steve exploded, recoiling from his partner’s touch and walking away from him. “Can’t you see it? I’ve made zero progress. There’s no guarantee that I’ll even get better, let alone heal completely, and I’m just tired! I’m tired of it all...”_

_He took his throbbing head between his hands, feeling utterly defeated but at the same time extremely outraged._

_“You’re not a quitter, Steve.”_

_“Yeah, well, maybe this time I am!”_

_Danny’s expression hardened. “Alright, you know what? You wanna wallow in self-pity do it on your own. I’m going home to my son, who is more mature than you are and who by the way, is still asking to see you. But maybe you don’t care about him either!”_

_Mouth set in a tight line, hands resting on his hips in his signature ‘badass Commander’ stance, Steve searched through the fog in his brain for something to say, glaring at his friend as he did so as if daring him to act on his threat._

_He could see the way Danny was looking at him, waiting for a reaction that would dispute his theory, but the anger coursing through his veins was too powerful and he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t help the hostility in his eyes and the rigid posture and demeanor screaming ‘Leave, I don’t need you’ while his heart begged him not to._

_In the end, no sound made it past the lump in his throat._

_“You son of a bitch...” Danny hissed, nailing him with his own angry stare when he realized his partner wasn’t going to stop him, and in the next moment he was gone._

Closing his eyes, Steve willed everything to stop spinning.

His skull felt like it was being ripped in two, and there was a crushing weight on his chest that had nothing to do with his condition.

How could he have been so stupid? 

He hadn’t meant to imply he didn’t care about Charlie. He would lay his life down for the kid in a heartbeat. Truthfully, in his confused state he wasn’t even sure what he meant. What was painfully clear to him now was that he couldn’t recognize himself anymore, and that he despised the man he had become.

He had allowed this illness to take everything good from him, something he hadn’t even let the transplant do, or the radiation poisoning he’d been diagnosed with.

Maybe it was the thought of something else hanging over him, of shit piling up on more shit. Maybe it was the last straw, but whatever it was had hit him hard and completely messed with his reasoning.

In the span of a few weeks, he had turned from the strong task force leader everyone had come to respect to a fragile being who didn't know what to do with his days because even getting out of bed was a hassle.

Speed made him dizzy, turning basic, everyday activities like driving or even riding an elevator into a struggle. Bright lights and loud noises made his headache spike, so he had systematically given up everything he liked, everything that made him who he was, and alienated himself from all of his friends.

If there was a way out of this, he just couldn’t see it right now.

Heart heavy with sadness and regret, Steve sat in the living room for the longest time, replaying the whole scene in his head until he could no longer stand it, then staggered to the kitchen to get his meds.

Doctor Evans had recommended taking them on a full stomach, but food was the last thing on his mind so he just swallowed them and headed upstairs, collapsing onto the bed without even bothering to change.

The last conscious thought before he succumbed to a fitful sleep was the hope that Danny would find it in his heart to forgive him.

***

“Sir… ah, Steve? You alright?”

Junior couldn’t hide the worry in his tone as he knocked on his friend and mentor’s bedroom door and hesitantly turned it open. It was four in the morning, and he had been woken by the sound of something crashing to the ground. Knowing the man’s current vulnerabilities and his frazzled state, he had made it his business to be even more alert than usual in case he needed him, bolting out of bed every night at the slightest sound.

“Yeah, I… sorry I woke you up, man,” came the strained voice from inside. 

Opening the door all the way to let some of the light from the hallway in, Junior saw him crouched by the nightstand and immediately stepped forward, fearing another spell of sickness. There had been a few recently, each of them leaving him weak and completely wrung-out. Only when he got closer he realized that Steve was trying to pick up the lamp that he’d apparently knocked down.

“I just…” he tried awkwardly. “I was reaching for my cell phone…” 

_To check if there were messages or calls from Danny, like he had been doing for the past two days._

He looked miserable, and the young SEAL felt a pang of protectiveness coursing through him.  
“Here, let me take care of it,” he said as he knelt down next to him and handily took the broken lamp, unplugged it and put it on the drawer so he could take it downstairs with him later. 

Noticing Steve hadn’t moved from his position and was staring numbly at the phone clutched in his hand, he squatted by his side again and put a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want me to call anyone?”

He knew about the fallout between him and Danny. Everyone on the team knew, and had taken it upon themselves to fix it before it was too late.

“No. Thanks, man. Go back to bed.”

“You sure?” Junior asked as he helped him up and onto the bed.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Steve sighed, not nearly as fine as he wanted the young man to believe.

Junior nodded unconvincingly. “I’ll come back with your medications at six. Call me if you need anything.” 

Resisting the urge to hover until he was satisfied his boss really didn’t need him, he left him sitting on the edge of the bed and closed the door, heading to the guest bedroom to get his own phone and make a call.

***

“What are you doing?”

Danny almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of Lou’s deep voice. The man had materialized behind him with a stealth approach worthy of... someone he didn’t want to think about right now. “What you mean, what am I doing? I’m taking a stroll to the beach, what do you think?” He countered, rolling his eyes at the absurdity of the question. “I’m locking my car with this key... see?” he made a show of raising his hand and pointing to the object in question, unable to hide the annoyance at the sudden ambush.

Lou gave him a ‘enough with the attitude’ look. “With Steve. What are you doing with Steve? Trying to prove a point or something?”

Danny’s posture stiffened. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is when it messes with my sleep,” Lou noted dryly. “Junior called me this morning. Four am. Said the man was miserable and staring at his phone like a teenager in love.” He watched Danny screw up his face in a ‘what the fuck?’ expression and shook his head in frustration. “Now maybe you’re right, maybe it’s none of my business but whatever he did, he’s not in his right mind and you know it so don’t take it out on him.”

“Take it out on him? I’m not the one who —you know what, I don’t wanna talk about this!” He said, waving him off as he headed towards the Palace. 

“I know you’re scared, man,” Grover pressed, easily catching up with him with a few, long strides. “I know you’re scared he’s not going to get better. Well, guess what, so is he, so for god’s sake just stop this nonsense, alright?”

The words stopped him in his tracks right by the building’s entrance and he hung his head, feeling like a jackass. 

He had never been able to stay mad at Steve for long, and the fifty-two hours that had passed since their argument felt just as painful to him as they apparently were for the stubborn putz. 

It was killing him not knowing how he was doing, not being able to help. The part of him that had felt unappreciated and dismissed had shrunk to a barely noticeable size, leaving him in a constant state of worry and barely able to focus on anything else. 

Lou was right. 

Steve was sick, and he should have never abandoned him.

***

“Hello.”

“Danny...”

The barely-whispered word surprised him a few minutes later as he sat in his office, head bowed, brooding over Lou’s words and trying to decide what to do.

Steve hadn’t been himself lately and that, as painful as it was, should’ve earned him the benefit of the doubt. But what people failed to grasp, or easily mistook for selfishness, was that Danny was hurting too. In the blink of an eye, he had found himself without both a work partner and the best friend he relied on more often than he cared to acknowledge and had been mourning the loss, albeit temporary, of the person Steve used to be and the relationship they had.

Week after week of caring with barely a grunt of acknowledgement in return, let alone a thank you, had slowly consumed him. The non-response about Charlie had just been the tipping point. 

Yet he valued their friendship too much, and the thought that despite his state, Steve cared enough to take the first step quickly dissolved whatever doubt Danny had left. 

“You alright?” he asked, always the first thing on his mind.

Steve’s heart was beating a mile a minute, but he swallowed hard and tried not to show it. “Yeah. Listen, I... I’m sorry, man. I was an ass.”

_There. He had said it._

The McGarrett men didn’t do well with words and he was no exception, especially now that his brain wasn’t working at its full capacity. Still, he’d had to suck it up and admit his mistake because sick or not, there was no way he could go on living without his best friend.

On the other end of the line, Danny sighed. There was a tiny part of him that was still hurt by Steve’s behavior and having a hard time dealing with it. “Yeah, you were.”

The admission felt like a stab to the former SEAL’s heart.

“You know I care about Charlie.” 

“I know.”

In the confines of his dark bedroom, Steve gripped the phone harder and pushed himself to voice his feelings. “I didn’t mean to— I don’t know what I was thinking and I feel terrible about it.” 

“You probably weren’t thinking, Steve,” Danny said, sounding weary and more harsh than he had intended. “You’ve been driving me crazy for weeks.”

The device almost fell from Steve’s hand. 

Damn. 

Danny sure wasn’t going to make things easy for him.

A long pause followed. 

Steve’s thumb hovered over the red button on his phone’s screen as he actually considered putting an end to his misery. He hadn’t expected such a reaction from Danny and wasn’t ready to handle it. But then his friend’s voice came back on the line, and he started breathing again.

“Alright, that came out wrong, I apologize,” the Jersey native said with genuine regret in his tone. “You’re sick, I shouldn’t have taken it so personally.” 

Chastising himself, he imagined how hard it had to be for Steve to go from being Superman and having control over his life to feeling like crap all the time.

“That why you called?”

“No, I...” Steve stammered. “Yes, that too. I called because I miss you. I woke up this morning with no headache for the first time in weeks and I couldn’t wait to tell my best friend about it. I couldn’t wait to tell _you_. I... I need to know that we’re okay.”

Another strained moment passed. 

“Listen, I know I pushed you away but I can’t do this alone, Danny. I’m sorry I took it out on you, man. I really am.”

Danny squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back tears. He didn’t know if he could do it either. They had become so dependent on each other that he honestly couldn’t imagine his life without Steve.

It was just an argument. 

They were stronger than that. 

Plus, that was the most eloquent his partner had been when talking about his feelings since the beginning of their friendship. It meant he truly believed what he’d said.

“You really feeling better?” he asked, needing further confirmation because it was a major improvement and it gave him hope that Steve was on the way to recovery. 

“Yeah, I am.”

“Good. That’s good. Maybe I can swing by later so we can talk about it.”

Steve’s lips quirked upwards. “I’d like that.”

“Alright, I’m gonna get dressed and go to work now, alright? You take care of yourself.”

Rising to his feet, Steve slowly opened the curtains behind the bed. He squinted at the morning sun, but the stabbing sensation was gone and he breathed in relief.

Maybe things were finally getting better. 

“I love you, buddy,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. 

Danny ducked his head, his mouth twitching as he fought a smile and lost, breaking into a boyish grin. “I love you too.”

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you guys think?
> 
> As usual, prompts and suggestions for further stories are welcome!


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